Dave charged at the group that had followed him. With one swing, he chopped off the head of the first zombie. He looked over at Bro every now and then, catching glimpses of him slashing zombies and dodging their advances. Dave almost couldn't handle all that was happening. Not only does blood make him a bit squeamish, but these were zombies. These were people who were once dead, walking again to consume other people. And if you were bitten, you became one too, joining the undead army. Dave was nearly bitten, and thanked fate for having him wear a jacket. It wasn't the best protection, but it was better than having bare arms.

The crowd grew larger and larger. Dave was completely unsure of how long he would be able to keep this up. Sweat began to drip down his face as he swung the blade around. He began to feel as though he were going mad. The only think keeping him away from the edge was the fact that he knew a zombie's weakness. If you cut off their head or damage their head in such a way that the brain was affected greatly, they would die. They re-animated through their brain after being infected, so that as long as the brain was intact, the zombie would not die. This knowledge made Dave feel more confident.

A sharp pain shot through Dave's right hand and he cried out. He went to grab his hand, but something felt odd. He looked down, and to his horror, he saw nothing but a bloody stump where his finger should be. His face twisted up into a look of pure terror. He shot around to look at Bro, but instantly regretted it. Bro had a twisted grin on his face. He held up his left hand, revealing Dave's missing pinky. Dave felt his stomach drop, and his jaw did as well. "Bro...?!" He screeched in horror. Bro tossed the pinky to the crowd of zombies in front of Dave, his twisted grin widening. "Here you go, you filthy creatures. Have fun with him!" The zombies fought over the pinky, one finally claiming it. They all then turned to Dave. "Bro, why?!" His voice cracked with fear as he screamed over the moaning of the zombies. "Goodbye, Dave." Bro replied back nonchalantly.

Dave began slashing through the crowd, running towards the hallway where he first encountered the creatures. He shoved himself into the empty bathroom and locked the door. He pushed himself against the door for extra defense while he thought of a plan. The zombies began to pound on the door. He could just barely hear Bro yell "You can't hide in there forever, Dave!" Dave slid to the floor, unable to hold back tears. He felt frustrated and betrayed. He was in such a shock that he completely forgot about his missing pinky that was probably being digested by a zombie that very moment. He finally decided to rip off a piece of his t-shirt to wrap around the stump. It wouldn't stop the bleeding much, but hopefully it would prevent infection were he to make it out alive.

He finally noticed a window right next to him. He ran over to inspect it. He was four or five stories up, but there was a fire escape. He gave the door a quick glance before rushing out of the window. He shut it, assuming that might stop the zombies for a while. He glided down the steps of the fire escape, panting hard by now. Once he reached the street below, he sprinted away to find help. He wanted to get as far away as possible before stopping for help. The sun burned his eyes as he ran, despite his shades being intact. He could feel his legs weakening, and his face was covered with blood and sweat. He could feel hysteria beginning to wash over him. He didn't care that the people on the street looked at him in shock and horror as he dashed down the street.

Dave heard a car engine speeding up behind him. He looked over his shoulder and let out a cry. It was Bro. He ran faster in an attempt to outrun the car. He began to get desperate. "HELP!" He screamed out. "HELP, HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" He looked over his shoulder again, seeing that Bro was even closer this time. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HEL-" Dave's last scream was cut short as the car smashed into his body, sending him flying up onto the hood. His head crashed against the windshield and everything went black.

The next day, Dave lay in a coma on a hospital bed. John and Rose had made a special trip all the way out to Houston to see Dave. They left a vase of flowers and a get well soon card on the table next to the bed. Dave had stitches on his head, and his stump had been cleaned up and bandaged properly. They had also cleaned him up, so all the blood and sweat that had gotten on him was now gone. He lay silently on the bed. A door opened, shining light on his pale face. "In here, Mr. Strider." A nurse held the door open, standing to the side. Bro had a look of greif on his face. "Thank you, miss." He relied solemnly. He waited for her to close the door before he let his true face show. A face that glared harshly. He walked over to Dave and spat in his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dave." He took a tissue and wiped it away. "You should have died in that theater." He spoke angrily and quick. "I guess I raised you to be TOO smart..." He grined a little. "But I guess it's easier this way..." He slid one of the pillows out from under Dave's head ever so gently. He covered Dave's face entirely, preventing any air from entering his body. He watched the heart rate monitor, waiting patiently for his heart rate to drop completely. He watched as the beeping became faster and faster before become a dragged out beep, the line measuring his heart rate going flat. He quickly but gently put the pillow back and began screaming in horror, clutching Dave in his arms. Doctors and nurses rushed in, confirming Dave's death. Bro kept his facade rolling, and no one suspected a thing.

Bro had won.

Dave was dead.